Lost Confession
by fignae
Summary: A letter published in one of the sensational collections of a bygone era, purportedly from a Frankenstein addressed to an Elizabeth. The rest of the tale remains a mystery. No other records pertaining to this incident have been discovered. VictorxHenry


_Disclaimer: Frankenstein belongs to Mary Shelley. I merely borrowed her characters for a spin. Should I be ashamed of myself? Nah.  
_

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**Lost Confession**

Editor's note: These words were transcribed from the journal of V. Frankenstein, discovered in a chest washed up on the beach after a shipwreck. The first page contains an injunction to burn these papers upon his death. It was conjectured that the unexpected death of the recipient prevented this action from being taken.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I write to you as I would my loving, living wife, for you are indeed alive to me still. Your presence fills the cramped chambers of this ship's cabin and consoles me in my solitude. Yet I am not alone on this earth. For the present I have the company of my new friend Walton, though I fear his sympathies grow strong of late and are of an intensity afore which my present constitution must falter. Loathe as I am to deprive him of a kindred spirit, the circumstance will doubtless occur too soon, and I will willingly fly to you, my darling Elizabeth, and to him my dearest friend Henry, whose love remains unsurpassed by the Captain's unsolicited affections.

I confess I keep this journal in the greatest secrecy, away from the curious eyes that mark my movements with kind anxiety; for there are matters I would reveal to your eyes before those of any man. Foremost among them are the words I neglected to unfold to Captain Walton, good man that he is. It is necessity that renders me silent on matters unrelated to my story; but you, my more than sister, my wife, would have heard the tale by and by, if my accursed creation had not struck you down in the blooming prime of life.

You know very well the fondness which I bore both you and Henry; from my earlier memory we were playfellows, you earlier than he, but he no less loved for having arrived later. You remember the times we spent in the study poring over our different but complementary occupations, how you laughed so merrily at Clerval's descriptions of his exploits. You know also the instance that discomfort threw a pall over our days; fortunately the wedge was fleeting and it was not long before we formed our happy circle once again, satisfied in our mutual affections. I was well aware of the love Henry had for you in his turn. Your hesitant gestures seemed to speak of a heart that shone on mine only, as mine for yours, but often there were looks that seemed to say otherwise, and I felt sufficiently safe to encourage you by the most subtle means I had at my disposal. Do not be angry with me, dear Elizabeth; I confess to emotions strange and fey that led to a wish for I know not what. May I say this now, then keep my peace forevermore! Our blissful circle shall never join again, unless it be in the Heavenly Father's own embrace, and this I must confide.

The illness came upon me as a consuming gale to the weary traveller. I drowned beneath its tolls, and only the helping hand of my friend kept me afloat. At some period in my convalescence I daily struggled with the notion of telling Clerval all. He had been a faithful nurse and the best friend a person could have, and every day I watched the marks of care on his clear brow deepen even as I grew in health. One day when he was at my bedside I fixed my eyes on him and spoke-

'Henry, my friend, I have been naught but a burden to you.' He put up a hand, thinking to interrupt me, but I shook my head and he allowed me to continue. 'But I fear I have not repaid your kind attentions with the like. I have not been as open with you as you deserve. I am wrought with events terrible in their nature, more terrible than even your imagination can grasp.' Here a violent trembling overtook me, and Clerval hastily wrapped my raised hand in both of his and begged me to stop. I attempted to resume, believing my task to be of paramount importance.

Finally he placed his lips on the exposed knuckles of my hand, pale with the force with which my fist was clenched. In a voice of suppressed emotion he repeated his entreaty. 'For the love of God, for Elizabeth, and all you hold dear, Victor! It is of no concern to me what horrible deeds you may have witnessed, or indeed,' he hastily added, feeling my muscles tighten, 'committed. You are as precious as family to me-' Here he came to an abrupt end and simply pressed my hand.

'I am content, Henry,' I said warmly, returning the pressure.

When he saw that I was calm he retreated to the armchair by the bed. He was habitually placed there on the direst days of my sickness, and I often woke in a fit of fever to see Clerval sleeping on this poor contrivance. On these moments I would dwell on the gentle rise and fall of his breast and be reassured of life.

Thinking to bring me cheer by venturing on another topic, Clerval said, 'Have you heard of Louis Manoir's impending marriage? He has just written me. He says she is a very comely young woman.'

'Elizabeth wrote of her. A lovely widow, I am led to believe, with considerable wealth at her disposal.'

At this Clerval gave a start. I inquired into it, but he laughed and made light of the matter. However, the incident remained in my mind; I wondered what blight could have clouded the eyes of the bright, happy fellow Clerval was. A few weeks later, I happened to inquire casually into the business of Manoir and the widow. Receiving no satisfactory response sealed my lips from further questioning. There are things each man must hold to himself, even from the knowledge of his closest intimates.

Little by little, I recovered. Before debarking for the journey homeward, he suggested a brief tour and I conceded.

Do you wonder that with the monster of my creation loosed to the world, I could thus gaily stroll the fields of Ingolstadt? But you forget, it was Clerval who remained by my side, he who hoisted the burdens of care off my weary shoulders. I often felt consumed by a sort of ecstasy. I would gaze on him as my sole source of love and light in those days. All of wondrous nature seemed beautified by his presence; again the sun shone and the wide sky smiled down upon our upturned faces, shining in what seemed like innocence. The shadow of the truth yet lurked in my heart, but I was able to dwell in the fullness of joy due to his unremitting companionship.

Much of the fortnight passed in this manner; my joy knew no bounds. I did not stop to question this wellspring of delight. I knew not how careless my indulgences were till the time when all light was withheld and the caress of love had fled every fibre of my frame. These ramblings were recalled to me after much had passed and I was again with Clerval on my voyage to England where the dreadful quest was to resume. How different were my feelings then! How much had changed in the interim, and how remote I was to Clerval, when I should have loved him more before we lost him forever?

Here the writing gives way to a species of hieroglyphics that have not been identified as any known language. A few pages later, the writer continued his narrative.

Thus I remember with pain my last moments with him. We sorely missed your presence, yet I sometimes felt that you were always with us. Rushing down the Rhine, the happiness swelling in my heart moved me to a semblance of the same. But as we approached Britain, gladness gave way to terror and bouts of illness.

I was in this state when I encountered Henry in the ship's cabin we shared. Mistaking him for the creature that haunted my dreams, I charged at him, arms outstretched. We grappled; I was merciless, and it was by chance that I did not accomplish the deed which the demon would do on my behalf. When I came to my senses I found that I was laid out on my bunk; Henry had been watching over me. Tears welled beneath my eyelids, but my features must have expressed much of pain and agitation, for Henry bent forward and pulled me upright. He placed my head on his shoulder, held me as a son, soothing my wearied senses by a gentle rocking motion.

The remorse that gripped my soul was unspeakable; I loosed my lips in incoherent explanations. Time passed and I fell asleep. I awoke in the dark, with the body of Henry beside me frozen in slumber. I have little recollection of the events that followed. I can barely recall the delirium in which I was held. The energy and beauty of Henry became concentrated in the foe that grappled with me in the dark, and for an instant I imagined myself to be back within the nightmare. Then it seemed the demon himself who covered me, and I shuddered and sweated in turn, overcome by the beastly strength of his inhuman arms. Gradually, I became aware that it was Henry, Henry who placed his lips on me and offered me all the solace his heart and hands could afford; I was not mad, but I teetered dangereously near that crevice when I allowed myself to be consumed by my longing for him, and you, Elizabeth, for even then your spirit lingered.

My love will always be with you,  
V. Frankenstein


End file.
